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Got The T-Shirt: December Drowning

Steph Spiers' poem tells of the depths of despair.

Through life now she wanders lonely,
trudged, brought low, along streets and
passing bright houses,
where never once a friendly face peered out.

No kindly host, no golden saviour.
Under leaden skies, beneath bus shelters,
she cowers shivering. Dithers in the rain.

Continuous bombardment by cares that hammer
and beat with every blow.
Worries stretched in never-ending thud
along the margins of every hour of every day.

Ten thousand queuing in a dance,
tossing inside her every dreamscape.
Shopping trolley, abandoned by taxi rank,
too cold to wait longer. Wanders away. Unloved.

Shouting voices inside her leer.
Inadequate. Inadequate. Inadequate.
Oh, for the quiet bliss of solitude:
tempting, dark glass-still waters beckon.


Do visit Steph's rewarding Web site http://fegglane.wordpress.com


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